A deathly silence engulfs us. Isaias has just curled a free kick precisely into the top corner and much like our keeper, there’s nothing we could do to stop it.
Two down after 35 minutes and many a Wanderers supporter, myself included, are starting to realise our respective trips to Adelaide may not have a fairytale finish.
Considering the nature of our epic 5-4 semi final win last week, many of us were hoping and thinking this was our year. To quote my bewildered brother at halftime of the final, ‘I thought it was fate.’
But the game of football can only ever have one winner and fate this time around was going to favour Adelaide.
As we clung to visions of our colossal comeback the week prior, our chanting was partly revived before halftime.
But not everyone was so optimistic or enthusiastic as Wanderers, fans and players alike, were swallowed and spat out by Adelaide Oval at the break.
The sheer number of Adelaide fans and the unique shape of the Oval meant we were surrounded on all sides by a towering number of enemies. It felt like we were the Spartans in 300 and at 2-0 down our resolute line was being broken.
While we’ll likely never know exactly what was said in the Wanderers dressing room at half-time, I did hear what the Wanderers fans had to say.
One disgruntled gentleman seemed to have given up all hope, suggesting it would only get worse and that we should expect a 5-0 score line.
Others were trying to be proactive about the situation, urging anyone who would listen to sing louder for their team. A message not everyone wanted nor could listen to after such a disheartening first 45 minutes had drained them of what energy they had left after migrating down to Adelaide.
Accustomed to walking down to Pirtek, my trip to Adelaide Oval was a tad longer and more tiring than I for one was use to.
It was a somber 15-minute interval as I watched Wanderers fans go through the various stages of grief. Anger. Denial. Acceptance. Depression. I saw them all as I went through my fair share too.
While the Wanderers emerged from the break with a welcomed enthusiasm, it wasn’t until Scott Neville lashed home a wonderful team goal that the majority of us fans rediscovered our own enthusiasm.
Suddenly it was last week all over again, as we patiently waited an equaliser that this time wasn’t to come.
For twenty minutes though, our blood was pumping again, our hope well and truly restored. The fans and team were rocking. 50,000 Adelaide fans silenced as they saw their team sit back and allow the Wanderers forward.
I was sure an equaliser was coming, fate right? But alas no, instead it was United who found the back of the net and were the ones celebrating at full time. Fate had decided it was Adelaide’s time to shine.
For most of us in the away end, we had been in this position twice before but this third time was every bit as hard to handle.
Whether it was a long haul bus ride or expensive last minute flight, every Wanderer fan was left wandering momentarily if they had made the right decision to come.
But just as doubt and regret crept in, we rallied behind our beloved club and comforted ourselves, if not the team, in a final chant.
Scarves raised, we united and left the stadium with our heads held somewhat high.
Wandering around Adelaide a couple days after the final, it was comforting to see one club’s hunger for a grand final had finally been quenched. United fans were gracious in victory and left me in peace as I proudly walked their streets clad in my Wanderers gear.
The Wanderers time will come, that I am sure. Like the Reds, we must be patient and continue to support the team through the many ups and downs football inevitably elicits.
So while the Wanderers departed Adelaide without an elusive grand final trophy, I for one left resolute in the support of my team.
It may not have been the best trip our club and fans have ever been on, but it’s a trip I’ll never forget.
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